


some things just make sense

by duchessofavalon



Series: she never slows down [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofavalon/pseuds/duchessofavalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James isn’t going to tell Geno, because he’ll crow about being right, but she does end up at Paul’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things just make sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hapakitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/gifts).



> If you need a face for girl!Nealer, [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/4735bad36d46aa8a27eca83c398a3adf/tumblr_mvgefytizh1rjtt9yo1_1280.jpg) is what I was thinking of, anyway.
> 
> For the lovely hapakitsune. Sorry it's a little late!! Your prompts included Paulie/Nealer, and "best friends!!!", and honestly I'd been looking for an excuse to write girl!Nealer, so. I hope you enjoy! <3

“Hey, do you have to leave?” Geno’s sitting on the edge of her bed, checking his phone. James hooks her chin over his shoulder. “I’m bored.”

“Yes. Having dinner at Sid’s.” He drops his phone on the bed and stands, looking around for his pants. 

James laughs. Of course he’s leaving her house to go to Sid’s. “You’re gonna shower first, right? You smell like bad decisions.”

“Going home to let Jeffrey out. I can shower then.” He leans over to kiss her forehead, a very chaste gesture given that she’s still naked and was close to screaming his name half an hour ago, but that’s not new. Hooking up occasionally is as much a normal part of their relationship as making perfect passes on the ice, or giving Rossi shit in the locker room.

“Okay.” James very pointedly doesn’t pout. Geno laughs at her anyway.

“Go to Paulie’s if you bored.”

Geno wears really terrible cologne, James decides as she lays back down, glaring at him as she realizes her pillowcase now smells like the inside of a major-junior locker room. 

“Why does everyone think I’m into Paulie?” she whines, kicking at the sheets down around her feet. 

Geno doesn’t say anything. He just stares at her in that way that she knows means he can’t find the right words in English offhand, and doesn’t think she’s worth the time to figure them out.

“Ugh, you’re such a douche.” She doesn’t mind as much as she makes it sound, though. Geno being a jackass was pretty much the basis of their friendship; when she’d first come to Pittsburgh, he’d been pretty much the only one willing to chirp her just as much and just as hard as he did the rest of the guys.

Geno just grins at her. 

She sighs loudly. “Fine. Go away.” 

 

James isn’t going to tell Geno, because he’ll crow about being right, but she does end up at Paul’s.

His couch is just really comfortable, is the thing, and she doesn’t want him being lonely and sad because he’s injured. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that her own house seems empty, too quiet because of its lack of furniture and large, echoing rooms. 

Her days of knocking at Paul’s ended the first time she moved in, so she uses her key to let herself in the front door and waltzes into the living room, dropping onto the couch. “Hey loser. Need anything?”

“Nah.” Paul grabs the remote right before she can. James sticks her tongue out at him. “Geno go home?”

“Nah, he was going to dinner at Sid’s or something. They’re probably plotting new and exciting ways to score infinitely more points than the rest of the league,” James says, ignoring the fact that Paul noticed Geno was at her place, and shrugging out of her hoodie. It’s really warm in Paul’s house. 

Paul’s eyes narrow. “Did you add to the sleeve again?”

“Just some color. I got bored a while back.” He rolls his eyes, because he’s a tool. Whatever, he’d told her once when they were both incredibly wasted that he thought her tattoo was hot. 

(That might have been when she decided to go for the full sleeve rather than sticking with the half. It might not have been. No one can prove anything.)

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” she asks, stealing the remote while Paul’s distracted looking at her tattoo and immediately changing the channel to the Food Network. She frowns, nose wrinkling up, when she sees that it’s Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives. Fieri, yuck.

“Nealer, it’s five o’clock. I don’t think my _grandmother_ has eaten dinner yet,” Paulie tells her.

“Well, I’m starving. We should order something.”

“Not all of us came home from practice and had a marathon sex session.”

Paul’s face is doing something weird. James puts the remote down and turns so she’s facing him, cross-legged on the couch. “Dude. Are you judging me? Or are you just sad you can’t practice? I can’t tell what your face is doing right now.”

He shrugs lightly, the strange tension disappearing from his expression. “Little bit of both.” Paul takes advantage of her momentary concern and yanks the remote back, turning it to NHL Network, which, gross, it’s their free time. James likes hockey as much as the next guy, but she doesn’t feel like shop talk right now.

“No way, man, we’re ordering like, Jimmy John’s or something and watching a bad movie. Or maybe that marathon of Too Cute Animal Planet’s doing right now.” 

“No.” Paul takes the remote and actually wedges it between himself and the arm of the couch so she can’t get to it without potentially hurting his leg, which, dirty pool. “Last time we watched Too Cute, you spent a week trying to acquire a sloth.”

“Sloths are awesome, fuck you.” She was still determined to figure out how to get one as a pet one day. 

“Of course you like sloths,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“Is that a Lazy joke?” she demands. When he doesn’t answer, she smacks him in the arm with a pillow.

“Absolutely not. Now, order Jimmy John’s if you’re gonna order Jimmy John’s.” He pulls up the On-Demand menu and starts scanning through the movies. James grins, finding the online menu on her phone and settling into the corner of the couch. 

If Paulie minds her sticking her feet in his lap, he doesn’t mention it.

 

:::

 

James goes directly home after her phone hearing. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone, and from the look Ray gives her after he and Dan are done lecturing, he gets that and doesn’t try to make her stick around. She’s chafing a little. Even though she understands that it was a dumbshit move and she fully deserved the lecture, she needs out of there.

Five games. Never mind being suspended and forfeiting salary, Geno’s gonna kill her and kill her dead. The fact that he’s got exactly zero room to talk when it comes to dirty plays definitely isn’t going to stop him. Fuck everything, this was supposed to be _their year_ and it feels like every time she turns around something is fucking it up. 

This time it isn’t some injury from a play gone wrong, though. This one’s all on her and she’s just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it.

And like, not knee people in the head and stuff in the future, that part’s important. 

It turns out, though, that being alone with her thoughts is actually not her best plan. That way lies madness and vanity googling and that’s a terrible idea any day of the week, but especially today, so instead of moping in her living room she heads across the street to Paulie’s and lets herself in so he doesn’t have to get off the couch.

He barely glances up at her from the book he’s reading even though he has NHLN on in the background. She takes a moment to study him, the firelight reflecting off his glasses, burnishing his hair red-gold and making her want to run her fingers through it. She doesn’t, of course, but the impulse is there. 

The impulse is pretty much always there.

“Not gonna get any sympathy over here,” he says quietly. 

“Not looking for any,” James tells him, falling onto the couch next to him and snagging the remote. If she has to see that damn Backstrom commercial again she’s gonna do something drastic. 

“Okay.”

And that’s that. They don’t say anything the rest of the night, but Paul does sling an arm around her shoulders some time during her third episode of Chopped and James feels something restless in her settle, a nervous energy she didn’t even realize she was carrying leaving her shoulders, and she slumps into his side.

 

:::

 

Maybe the next time her mom calls and asks what she wants for Christmas James should say ‘gloves’, she decides as she tries to shove her hands deeper into the pockets of her parka. It’s snowing (again) and yet here she is wandering around in the cold, voluntarily, because she’s the best friend ever.

And also because Geno told her if she wanted to make getting suspended up to him, she had to help him find the perfect Christmas tree.

“He looked so sad this morning,” she says mournfully, tucking herself a little more into Geno’s side. It pays to have tall friends that can block the frigid wind (and at least some of the snow), and she’s not above taking advantage. She’d taken her contacts out after practice in favor of wearing her glasses, foolishly thinking she’d just be driving home. “At least at the bar the other night he was laughing.”

“Because you being annoying, so he get to hit you with crutch,” Geno reminds her. He peers critically at the tree he’s stopped to examine, then shakes his head. “Not tall enough.”

“Not _tall_ enough? Geno, that thing is huge.” James pulls her toque down farther on her head, tucking her hair behind her ears to keep it from blowing into her face. “And anyway, my point is that Paulie’s moping. I just wanna do something to cheer him up.”

“Get him Christmas tree,” Geno suggests. He stops again and grins. “This one.”

“For you or for Paulie?”

“Me. Can have big tree now that I don’t have cat. Won’t get stuck.” He turns to gesture to the employee that’s been lurking behind them the entire time they’ve been ambling around the tree lot.

“Dixi got stuck in your Christmas tree?”

“Cats.” Geno shrugs.

Still, a Christmas tree for Paulie isn’t a bad idea. Not a real one, though - with a broken leg, he doesn’t need to be worrying about keeping it alive and watered and stuff. But he doesn’t have any decorations up yet - she was over there for breakfast just this morning.

“Lazy!” Geno yells, snapping her out of it.

“Keep your pants on,” she grumbles, “I’m coming.”

 

Once Geno gets his tree loaded on his car, James ditches him and heads off on her mission. 

It takes her approximately a million years in Target to decide on a color scheme for Paul’s tree. Shockingly, she ends up leaving with several bags full of black and gold ornaments, as well as a couple sequined stuffed penguins to remind him of where he belongs (the siren call of Minnesota is strong; she can’t take any chances). The tree she picks out is pre-lit, because fuck actually having to string lights. James doesn’t have the patience for that.

(It has nothing to do with the fact that once, when she was still in Dallas, she blew a fuse out trying to string Christmas tree lights together. Richie won’t let her live that down; he even brought it up the last time they played the Rangers, the fucker.)

Paul’s still at the rink when she gets to his house, so she lets herself in and starts putting the tree together in the large empty space in front of his living room window.

Ten minutes later she’s laying on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling and questioning her life choices.

“ _Why_ did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because you have a giant crush on him?”

James pulls the phone away from her ear and lifts it so she can glare at it. “You’re the fucking worst, I do not,” she says, hitting the speakerphone button. “He’s just, like, my best friend.”

“Ouch.”

James rolls her eyes. “You’re a tool. And speaking of people with broken leg bones, I hear you’re already skating again, crazy.” She’s pretty proud of herself for that segue, and even prouder of the fact that Stammer actually lets her get away with it.

“Gary thought it would be a good idea, since the docs and the trainers were fine with it. You coming up for Christmas? You can join our workouts,” he offers.

James laughs out loud. “I’m going home, yeah, but you can have Scary Gary all to yourself, bud. The most exercise I’ll be getting is chasing Mike and Pete around the pond.” They have a game the Friday after the CBA-mandated Christmas break, so other than traditional sibling shinny, James plans to do nothing but veg on her mom’s couch and catch up on reality tv.

“Got a lot of Toddlers and Tiaras to watch?”

“You know it. And Say Yes To The Dress. Those girls are crazy.”

Eventually she pulls herself out of the floor to finish “shaping” the tree, whatever the fuck that means, but she keeps Stammer on the line for a while as she decorates. It’s good to talk to him; Stammer’s been around longer than just about anyone, so it sucks going as long as they do during the season without seeing each other. 

The tree is nearly done when she hears the front door open. All she’s got left is to put up the giant gold star she bought for the top.

“What are you doing?” Paul says from the doorway. 

“Hey, you’re home! Did one of the trainers drive you?” She frowns, reaching up a little higher and then giving up and dragging the ottoman over to stand on. 

“Yeah.” He comes further into the room, and James’s smile threatens to break her face when she sees he’s just in a boot, no crutches. “Did you...buy me a Christmas tree?”

“Yep.” She fusses a little with one of the sequined penguins. “I know you didn’t put one up last year, but things have kind of sucked this year and I thought having decorations might make things a little better.” There’s a wreath on the front door, too, one of those pre-made ones, and a lighted pine garland on the mantle. With the overhead lights out and a fire in the fireplace (if she can make it without burning herself), it’ll be downright cozy.

“Okay.” That’s seriously all he says, too, just ‘okay’, and James turns so she can glare fully at him. Except that he’s grinning at her, fucking _beaming_ , and so James grins too and goes to hug him, arms slipping easily around his neck. He smells really good, and she rubs her cheek against his for a second before she steps back, nose crinkling. 

“You need to shave, you’re all sandpapery.”

Paul rolls his eyes and heads for the couch. “Did you make me dinner, too?”

“No, but I ordered healthy pizza. Or like, as healthy as pizza gets,” she amends. Spinach is a superfood. Gary doesn’t even have to know.

It’s a pretty typical night, all told. The pizza doesn’t last long between the two of them, and James doesn’t burn herself trying to light the fire, and Paul even lets her pick what they’re watching without arguing with her (too much). 

Her eyes begin to drift closed during the third episode of Iron Chef. She’s curled into his side, head on his shoulder and his arm around her, and it’s too comfortable. She should get up and go home, and mumbles something of the sort. 

“Nah,” Paul says quietly against her hair. “You’re fine.”

 

:::

 

The mistletoe balloon hat is probably the greatest part of the Christmas party. Like, skating with the team and the guys’ families is fun. She even gets to take a turn with Payton when Kuni goes off to check on Maureen for the millionth time, and man is that the cutest little girl James has ever seen on skates. 

After she gives Payton back to her daddy, James gives herself a break and heads off in search of food, which is when she finds Duper and Geno talking the balloon animal guy into making a mistletoe hat, and, well. Things kind of devolve once she gets her hands on it.

Sunshine is her first victim, because he’s easygoing and he’s also pretty damn adorable (and, okay, she probably should upgrade that to _hot_ this season because of whatever the hell he did to his shoulders over the summer). He’s standing off to the side talking to Bort animatedly, and she briefly considers leaning over so the mistletoe is over both of them and making _them_ kiss, but she figures with all the cameras around today is not the day.

Instead, she just waltzes right on up to Beau and taps him on the shoulder, cracking up when he turns around and immediately says, “Oh, Jesus, Jimmy” with a long-suffering expression that really should offend her. As it is, she merely grins and gives him a very noisy kiss on the cheek, ruffling his hair.

“Be glad that’s all I did,” is her parting shot, because it really could’ve been much worse.

Her next victim is Vero, because she’s standing nearby and looking pretty and it’ll piss Flower off, so that’s pretty much a hole in one as far as James is concerned. Vero sees her coming and is already laughing by the time James plants a smacking kiss square on her mouth.

“Excuse you!” Flower exclaims, throwing the hand that is not currently holding his daughter and her ruffly, fluffy dress in the air. “That’s my wife! The mother of my child! And you just - ”

“Good point,” James agrees, and leans over and showers kisses all over Estelle’s chubby, rosy cheeks. “Wouldn’t want to leave you out, pretty girl,” she coos, tickling Estelle’s feet and grinning in delight as the baby kicks and giggles. Vero’s pretty much cackling, and Flower looks like nothing so much as an old Wild West villain with his dark expression and that terrible mustache.

“None for you, though,” James tells him as she straightens up, her face impassive. “Whiners don’t get kisses.”

Sid’s off to the side, doing his honking goose laugh thing that would be obnoxious if it wasn’t so fucking endearing, and James shoots him a sly grin. “What are you laughing about, soldier? You’re next.” She wiggles her eyebrows and feints a lunge in his direction, and almost falls on the floor laughing when he practically jumps to hide behind Duper.

“You’re a menace, Nealer,” Dan says evenly as he passes them on his way to the food table.

“I know,” she says lightly, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. She turns to go after Sid again, but spots Paulie sitting on one of the couches with his leg propped up and changes her direction. “Hey.”

She drops easily onto the couch next to him, grinning and shaking her head. “Like my hat?” Paul smiles, but it’s looking a little weak, so she leans forward, her own smile conspiratorial. “Don’t think I’m not serious about this, dude.”

“Oh, I saw just how serious you are.” There’s still something off about his face, though, and it’s not - he’s not _sad_ , he just looks - tired. That’s it. James can’t fix that, short of dragging him home and making him nap (which she absolutely plans to do when this party is over), but she can try to put a real smile on his face in the meantime.

She leans closer so that the balloon mistletoe is dangling over his head threateningly, and gives him a chance to back away. When he doesn’t, James closes the gap between them and kisses him.

She means for it to be just a quick, firm kiss, not unlike the one she gave Vero. 

This kiss is nothing like that.

It’s quick. The first time. But when she pulls back, Paul’s eyes are still on hers and there’s a moment where all she can think is _’oh’_ , and then Paul’s pulling the balloon hat off her head and pulling her back in to kiss her again. 

James has no idea what to do with her hands. Eventually they land on Paul’s shoulders, and one slides up into his hair because she’s maybe seriously into his stupid ginger hair, and they really shouldn’t be making out when most of their team is around. Sunshine’s gonna be such a dick about this, god.

“Um,” is all she manages to get out when she pulls back again. 

Paul’s smiling, though. And so is she, this stupid, dopey grin that everyone is going to give her shit about forever. She makes a mental note to track Jennifer down and ask her to make the PensTV folks delete any of this that makes it into the footage they’re gonna use for In the Room.

“Um,” Paul repeats, smirking at her. James glares.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His hand is still in her hair, carding through it slowly, and James leans into it.

“So,” she says, dragging it out. “When the party’s over…”

Paul raises his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “When the party’s over...what? What kind of girl do you take me for, Nealer?” he teases.

James shoves at his shoulder, scowling. “If you’re gonna be a tool about it.”

He tugs gently on the ends of her hair. “You come back to mine all the time anyway,” he reminds her. “Today’s not any different.”

James gives him a Look. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

Paul looks right back at her, steady as ever. “Really? You kissed me, yeah. Has anything else magically changed?”

James’s first instinct is to be hurt, and she ducks her head a little so it doesn’t show, hair falling in her eyes. And then she looks at him again, and he’s still right there, gaze unwavering, and she thinks maybe she gets what he’s trying to say, and she kind of wants to punch herself for it.

“No,” she says slowly. “Everything’s the same as it’s always been.” Because of course he’s been into her this entire time, and of course she took forever to get the plot. James heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Does this mean we’re going to have to talk about _feelings_?”

Paul nods solemnly, but she can see the corners of his lips twitching, the bastard. “It can probably wait until after the party, though.”

“Oh, well then.” She leans in to steal another quick kiss, because now that she knows she _can_ , it’s kind of addicting, and there’s so much to learn - she thought she knew everything about Paul Martin, but this opens up an entire new world of information, and James was never much of a student in school, but she thinks maybe she can really apply herself to this particular subject.

“I am going to have to put in a request that you ditch the hat, though,” Paul remarks.

James pouts a little. “That’s too bad. I was gonna go after Cath next.”

“Oh, well,” Paul says, and now he definitely looks less maudlin than he had earlier. “I mean, that would probably be okay.”

She punches him in the shoulder. “Oh, it would, huh?” She stands, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m gonna go skate a little more, I think. Text me when you’re ready to go home, eh, gimpy?”

Something about Paul’s eyes when she says “home” makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so yeah, she really needs to go check Engo into the boards when he’s not expecting it or something. 

Paul just says “Okay”, though, and settles back into his semi-lounging position on the couch.  
James can’t resist the urge to lean back over and steal one last kiss, so she doesn’t, and he slides a hand into her hair again and keeps her there until Bort wolf whistles and yells “Get some!”, so yeah, forget Engo, Bort’s going down.

“Don’t hurt him too badly, we’re already running Wilkes-Barre out of defensemen,” Paul reminds her. 

“I’ll do my best.” Or her worst. 

She’ll just make sure she keeps her knees to herself.


End file.
